


Conversation

by Miss Windy (PK_preservation_project)



Series: The Prince And I [1]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 23:51:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13868649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PK_preservation_project/pseuds/Miss%20Windy
Summary: Loosely based on a monologue in the film 'The Conversation' by Francis Ford Coppola. In this redo, Harry Kim talks to a mostly sleeping Tom Paris, and confesses all his regrets, feelings, and desires for their future.





	Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Leigh, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [P/K All the Way](https://fanlore.org/wiki/P/K_All_the_Way) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [P/K All the Way’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/pkalltheway/profile).
> 
> ====
> 
> Archive: I'd be in an absolute tizzy if anyone actually liked this enough to archive it somewhere. So, most anywhere is fine.
> 
> Spoilers: "Disease", "The Chute".
> 
> Disclaimer: Paramount/ Viacom owns all characters, equipment, and general lore relating to the Star Trek Universe. Only the story is mine. No copyright infringement is intended, especially since I will definitely never make a dime off any of this. Just getting my jollies. That's still legal. Errr. . . right?

\---

Was he really stretched out on my bed? Or was this another trick from Q? Some mind-controlling Delta Quadrant species? An allergic, hallucinogenic reaction to something Neelix cooked up-- and of course, I use that term loosely-- earlier today? An illusion conjured up by the exotic alcohol we had all just consumed on the surface of the neighboring planet?

I nearly laughed at my own absurdity. No, Tom was really on my bed, half-conscious, drunk as a skunk, his gaze only partially focused on my quarter's ceiling.

"Make your quarters stop spinning, Harry," he groaned, and shut those baby blues of his.

I only laughed, and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch him.

"I think you had a little too much to drink, buddy," I offered lamely.

He covered his face with a pillow. "No shit," came the muffled retort.

"Are you OK?"

"Mmm-hmmph."

We sat there in silence, me up against the headboard, Tom hogging most of my bed, for what seemed like a long time. Then again, I had had a little too much to drink, too.

The sudden sound of his cracked tenor actually made me jump, a little. "B'Elanna hates me."

"She doesn't hate you, Tom. She's just pissed that you acted like such a jackass tonight."

"She's never going to speak to me again," he moaned-- and did he sound less than heartbroken? I shook my head, chiding my own foolishness.

"Sure, she will." I remembered how the alien music stopped at the sharp slap she had delivered to him earlier, the reward for some overly loud and no-doubt sexist remark he had made to her in front of everyone. I remembered how everyone had watched her leave with mild curiosity as the music had resumed, and Tom had finally been able to regain his balance. I knew I sounded less than sure.

"It's just that. . . you know she's a very private person. She doesn't like you making raunchy jokes like that about her in public."

Silence, and easy, light breathing.

"Tom?"

No answer except that he slowly rolled over onto his side, his back to me, his face partially obscured by my pillow.

"Tom, you awake?" I whispered. "Can you hear me? You listening?"

Still nothing. One hundred eighty pounds of blond dead weight on my bed. I reached out to touch his shoulder, but stopped myself. I felt like crying, suddenly, my emotions augmented by the strange alcohol we had had.

"I miss you, you jerk," I said as softly as possible to the sleeping form. "You hardly spend any time with me these days, you're so wrapped up in B'Elanna. I've never been that wrapped up in anyone in my life, Tom. Except. . . maybe you."

No reaction to my revelations, still. He was out like a light. "Story of our lives, buddy. You're unconscious while I'm putting my heart on my sleeve." I laughed, barely audible and mirthless.

"God, you're so fucking oblivious. And. . . I don't know how to stop feeling like this, Tom. I really want to. I want to be happy for you. I wish I could be, more than anything."

Tom let out a soft snore. How cute, I thought, and was vaguely disgusted with myself.

"You just have no idea, do you? Of how many times I've wish I'd had the guts to say something to you right away, in Quark's bar when we first met. You were so beautiful-- you still are-- but you were coming to my rescue. I'd never had anyone as beautiful as you come to my rescue before. . . or since." My voice was hoarse and thick with emotion, and again I felt tears threaten and ebb.

"If I hadn't been so damn insecure, I would have said what I really wanted to say then, and we could have maybe had a shot these last five years. Or maybe not. Maybe you would have avoided me like the plague. You don't like men. You never have. You're practically phobic of them. I wonder why that is? You're so beautiful--" and it was much louder than I had intended it.

Tom stirred a bit, and I watched him scratch his face before he settled in again. It was a long time before I spoke again, barely a whisper.

"You're so beautiful that I'm sure you must have had men and women throwing themselves at you since you can remember. I don't have a preference for either/or, you know. No, you don't know. I've never told you, because I've been afraid that I might say something that would make you not want to be my friend anymore. You hardly know anything about me, Tom. Then, again. . . I hardly know anything about you, too."

I sighed, feeling burdened. I started again, seeing him in my mind's eye the way he looked in Quark's bar, jaded and bitter and disgusted with the Ferengi and genuine concern in those amazing eyes that couldn't quite fix themselves on mine.

He wanted a friend so badly, I think, that he picked me blindly. "Jesus, Tom, so many nights I've tortured myself thinking that if anyone had reached out to you the way I did, you would have gotten just as attached to them, as you have to me. Make do, or do without, right? Harry would always do in a pinch."

I saw in my mind his cool confidence in blowing off that Ferengi, and I turned to the sleeping man on my bed, my lips just inches away from his ear.

"Hi," I said, and my voice was all amusement. "I'm Harry Kim, and I'm assigned to the USS Voyager. It's my first assignment out of the Academy, and it's going to be a good one. I can tell. You're not from around here, are you? I don't see people who look like you every day. You carry yourself like royalty-- oh, you didn't notice? Well, you do. You rescued me back there at Quark's, you know. Just like Prince Charming would have." I smirked at my own sarcasm, and allowed myself to cuddle closer to my best friend, my head propped up on one hand, looking at the back of his golden hair in the semi-darkness of my quarters.

"I would tell you more about myself, but really, there's so little to tell. I've always done well in school. Top of my class. Captain of the velocity team. I was pretty popular. I had a lot of friends, and Libby was my first girlfriend. My father would have preferred that I become a scholar. When I took up with StarFleet, he tried not to show it, but he was pretty disappointed. And you? Oh. . . Your dad was always disappointed in you? Yeah. . . Well, I won't make you talk about your father."

I sighed again, lying back, my hands behind my head. How could one clueless man make me feel so much hurt and wonderment all at the same time?

"My mother is thirteenth-generation South Carolinian. She is a lovely woman. I'll introduce you to her sometime when I get back. I'll introduce you to whoever you want."

I should have said all that, and more, when I first saw him. But I was too much of a coward then, and now. . . well, now it was too late.

"I wasn't in love with you when I first met you, you know," I said, through teeth that were almost clenched. "At least, I didn't think I was, because it was only later that I'd realized that up until that point, I had been feeling so empty, so lonely, with so much longing. . . because I wanted someone to fill the void, to make me feel that as long as we were together, all would be right with the universe. Even with Libby, who really is a very nice girl. . . even with Seven, who catches even your eye, even after you're all wrapped up in B'Elanna. . . even Tal, who-- shit. That was just totally embarrassing."

I sighed again.

"Up until that moment in Quark's bar, when I looked up and had to catch my breath, because I couldn't stand to look directly at you, you were that beautiful, like the sun. . . up until that moment, I realized later, I had been searching for someone to complete me. And it was only much later-- years, maybe-- that I realized that the instant I met you, I stopped the search."

I looked over to him, his position unchanging, his chest heaving in light breaths, and I resisted the urge, for perhaps the thousandth time, to put my arm around him and nuzzle his neck.

"I can't tell you these things, Tom, because they would make you afraid of me. You do love me, but not the way I want you to. But-- I love you for loving me just the way you do. I'll take whatever I can get from you, every crumb you throw my way. And I promise, I'll try really hard to not try to read between the lines. If you put your arm around me, I'll try not to think maybe it means something. Because it doesn't. Because you love B'Elanna, and that's how it should be, and it's fine. Not. . . not fine. It breaks my heart all the time, Tom. Because I love you and want you more than I've ever wanted and loved anything or anyone my whole entire life. But as long as you're there, then all is right with the world. I couldn't tell you any of this, because if I did, then you may not want to be there anymore. And the thought fills me with such overwhelming dread, that there's no question in my mind that I'm doing the right thing."

I was mere inches away from his neck, and I wanted to kiss it so badly. But of course I didn't. I merely inhaled his mild, rich scent deeply, and allowed my lips to graze his hair.

"God, Tom Paris. How could you know so much about the effect you have on women, and be so blind when it comes to me?" I blinked hard. I wasn't going to cry. What a cliché that would be, a drunken mess crying over the unconscious form of the object of his unrequited affections.

How ridiculous and stupid you are, Harry.

Still, it was liberating to say these things at last, even if he was too drunk and too asleep to hear me. My words came faster and faster, wanting to get all out before he woke up and I lost my nerve.

"I'm in love with you, Tom, and that's made me foolish, and cowardly, and selfish. So, so incredibly selfish that it shames me, because I love B'Elanna like a sister, and I'd do anything to get her out of the picture. Gods, anything. Except that. . . I know that no matter how many women I get out of the way, you'll still never want me. I don't know what it is about you, when it comes to men. Or maybe it's not men that you aren't attracted to, just me.

But it's there, an obstacle between us, and I know. . . I'm almost certain you could never see me like that. But I. . . I will always want you. I don't care about your ego, or your insecurities, or your asinine jokes. I don't care that you have something to prove and live in the past sometimes. I don't care that sometimes, when you're hurt, you're like a wounded animal and lash out at the people who try to get close to you. I don't care that when you get an idea into your head, you don't let it go, even if it kills you. I love you for all of that, and more. I think you're the greatest thing that ever happened to me, Tom Paris, and if you were awake right now, I would make you swear to never leave me. Even if you had ten B'Elanna's!"

And I had to stop, suddenly, choking on my own emotions.

I stared at the back of Tom's unmoving head and looked at what was going on in my head. Why had I bothered saying all this? Did I seriously expect an answer? Did some small part of me hope that he heard me? But of course, he hadn't. I suddenly felt very tired, and I sunk into the bed next to him, my heart and my groin aching at having him so close and not being able to touch him, not the way I wanted to.

I smiled a little at my own sentimentality, and said, half mumbled. . . "Even if you had ten B'Elannas. . . you will always have one Harry Kim. Always, Tom. I hope you know that much, at least."

And then. . . he turned-- flopped, almost-- towards me, heaving out a great sleepy sigh, and scooted closer to me, his head nuzzling into my shoulder. I froze for an instant, then settled back as he slipped arm around my belly. Of course. He was probably used to having a warm body to cuddle up to at nights.

I bitterly reminded myself that he probably thought I was B'Elanna. . .

Then he said, "Mmm. . . Good to know."

And. . . the bastard fell right back to sleep.

\---

End


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